Around The World In 80 Babes – Chapter 1: The Gentleman’s Bet

Around the World in 80 Babes

by: TRL

Chapter 1: The Gentleman’s Bet

January 1st, 2005

The Timekeeper’s Club

London, England

“… And, upon climax, I quickly flipped Miss Titmuss over and spanked her ass hard.”

There was a general round of applause, one Richard Stall did not join in with. William Neal was going on again about his latest conquest, one Abi Titmuss, a woman of some renown in England for no real apparent reason other than being a big-busted blonde. That William had been able to sleep with her was a good thing for him. That he was able to photograph the
event was good for the rest of the members of the Timekeeper’s Club.

However, the fact that it meant that William Neal had guaranteed himself the position of staff-holder for the next year meant that Richard would want to be spending considerably less time in the club in 2005.

“Well done, Mr. Neal,” Dr. Al-Qahtari said as the applause died down, and the powerpoint presentation William had been showing closed down. Damn William always had a powerpoint presentation for everything. Al-Qahtari moved to the front of the room. “That makes, what, the sixth time young Miss Titmuss has appeared in our little gatherings?”

Another round of laughter filled the room. Abi Titmuss was fond of having sex, and William Neal was far from the first man in the room to bag her.

There were 25 members of the Timekeeper’s Club, all of whom were in the top 100 most wealthy individuals in England, if not the world. Richard had made most of his money in manufacturing and computers, while William Neal was filled with so much old money, it was amazing his blood wasn’t blue. Dr. Al-Qahtari was from rich Saudi Oil, which explained his Oxford education and smug superiority surpassed only by William.

“Well, William, I’d say you’ve earned the Staff for this year,” Al-Qahtari said. “You’ll be leading us for the next 365 days. What forms of perversion and decadence shall we seek out this year?”

“Why change a thing?” William said. “I’d say rampant sexual activities sounds quite pleasant.”

“Just like you, William,” Richard said, unable to hold his tongue any more. “No vision. No desire to improve on what we’ve got?”

“Improve? How?” Neal muttered.

“We’ve been living off pictures and powerpoint presentations forever now. It’s time we got into the video age.”

“Video is all well and good, Richard,” Dr. Al-Qahtari said, “But getting women to pose for a video camera while you’re fucking them is a lot harder than smuggling in a small camera to the bedroom.”

“Not anymore,” Richard said, pulling out a small pendant from his pocket. “This is the latest camera from my VideoCaptures Company in America. It’s fully digital, and broadcasts on a channel so high that no receiver other than the one designed for will be able to pick it up. Let’s say I wear this around my neck while I’m getting down with a woman. You’d be able to see her face, her body, even my penetration. No woman would expect it, and it’s small enough to not get in the way.”

“Incredible,” Dr. Al-Qahtari said. “But that would still mean we’d have to have sex with these celebrities.”

“As if that’s so hard to do,” Richard replied. “Even Neal managed to snag one.” That brought a small round of chuckles. “But aside from that, these cameras aren’t limited to this pendant. In fact, as I speak, a certain young female celeb’s bedroom has been filled with these cameras.”

“Really?” Dr. Al-Qahtari asked. “Which one?”

Richard smiled. “Tell you what, if I bring you footage of this celeb involved in sexual activity, will you consider my proposal?”

“We might,” Dr. Al-Qahtari replied. “But on a trial basis only. You, as the only one of us with access to this technology, will be required to provide us with most of this footage.”

“I’ll be back as soon as I have it,” Richard said, gripping his pendant and quickly leaving the room.

* * *

Michael Burke stood outside the Timekeeper’s Club, silently waiting for Richard Stall to exit. Tall, with skin just a few shades lighter than pitch black, and dressed to kill, Michael could easily be mistaken for the owner of the Limo he now sat on the hood of, though, in fact, he was just Richard’s driver. Not that Michael minded – Stall paid him quite well, better than any job he’d ever had in the States, and the added bonus of living in a mansion belonging to a man obsessed with naked women and sex made the trip across the pond more than worth it.

Stall came bounding down the steps, and Michael swung into action, opening the Limo door for him. “Where to, Boss?”

“The Pit, where else?” Stall said. “Let’s see if Mr. Lambert’s team has pulled off what I paid them for.”

* * *

January 1st, 2005

“The Pit”

London, England.

The Pit was, for lack of a better term, nothing more than a rather unassuming flat just on the outskirts of London. Neither run down, nor particularly well kept, the entire building was owned by Richard Stall through a dummy corporation that specialized in keeping certain things off Stall’s Tax vouchers. In the end, the Pit was simply a place to live that had no connection to Richard, the Timekeeper’s Club, or even it’s current occupant.

Tomas Lambert was all of 26 years old, a bit pudgy around the middle, and still suffering from acne, though that last part he blamed on English Food. Born and raised in America, Lambert had come to Stall’s attention for his college dissertations at Harvard on two separate subjects. The first was mico-sizing digital cameras.

The second was the use of controlled pheremones on human subjects.

“Tom, how’d it go?” Stall asked as he entered the main office of the Pit. Lambert had a huge series of videoscreens set up, many shut off at the moment, but six lit up and ready to display whatever their cameras saw.

“No sweat,” Lambert said. “Those guys you gave me knew how to get us in and out no problem. The subject, unfortunately, has a problem.”

“What’s that?” Stall asked.

“Her husband missed his flight. He’ll be stuck in Japan and won’t be home until tomorrow.”

“Bugger,” Stall swore. “How are we supposed to go in there and get sex footage if she’s not having sex?”

“Beats me, but if she does, we’ll see every possible shot of it – as long as it’s on the bed.”

“We should’ve done her shower, too. Then we could have at least gotten her naked,” Stall muttered.

“No go there. Take me another week to get the waterproofing done on these micro cams,” Lambert muttered.

“Well, I guess we’ll wait until tomorrow,” Stall muttered, standing up.

“Hang on, here she comes!” Lambert said, pointing towards one of the cameras. It was a side shot from across the bed, and it showed the bedroom door opening, and a rather depressed looking Kate Beckinsale walking in. Kate was clad in a simple pink night shirt, and her long hair was let down. It was more than evident that she was ready for bed, though from the tear streaks running down her cheek, it wasn’t going to be a great one.

“Stick around,” Lambert said. “I’ll show how good our night vision is.”

“None of that green Paris Hilton stuff, right?” Stall asked.

“None. I’ve got some special filters in the computers here at The Pit, and we can make these images into TrueColor easier than you can say Soccer.”

“Football,” Stall muttered as he watched Kate walked towards the light switch.

“Same difference,” Lambert muttered.

On the screen, Kate had shut off her lights and crawled into bed. Her shirt had been replaced by a single-piece slip that clung to her body perfectly. She seemed to have stopped crying, at least for the moment, and appeared to be settling in for a long night’s sleep.

“Look at that,” Lambert said. “You can make out the color of her hair, even with a minimum of ambient light inside the room.”

Stall grunted in approval. Lambert was right, the image on the camera was so good, it was almost as if they were in the room, with only a candle light on. There were no dark spots on the screen, no digital marks, no freeze-framing. It was almost literally like their eyes were in the room.

“Fantastic,” Lambert said again. “Just fantastic. I love it!”

“Let’s see another angle,” Stall said. He’d ordered six cameras place in the room.

“Let’s do one above the bed,” Lambert said, switching to a new camera. They now hovered above the bed, able to see the outline of Kate’s entire body underneath the thin sheets.

“Whoa, got some pokies going on,” Lambert said with a smile, motioning towards the outline of Kate’s nipples through the sheets. “Looks like she really wanted to get laid tonight.”

“Are you recording this?” Stall asked.

“The computer saves all these images for up to a week before deleting them. We can take what we want and edit it all together later.

“Excellent,” Stall said, his eyes focused on Kate’s nipples. They’d make an excellent opening shot.

“Well, we should probably shut these babies down,” Lambert said, moving towards the controls. “Nothing’s going to happen tonight, no reason to waste the hard drive space.”

“Wait!” Stall said, pointing towards the screen. Kate was moving in the bed, reaching down and pulling the slip she’d put on off, and chucking it to the floor. Somehow, the sheets remained covering her body, which now must have been completely naked underneath.

“Damn!” Lambert said. “That would’ve been a perfect chance to get her tits.

“Why’d she do that?” Stall asked, more to himself than anyone else. “It’s rather cold tonight. Why get naked under the sheets.

“Maybe her sheets are too warm?” Lambert asked.

Then, they got their answer. Right in front of them, they could see the outline of Kate’s hand sliding down her body towards her crotch.

“Oh my god,” Lambert said. “Is she doing what I think she’s doing?”

As if in response, Kate’s mouth opened in a silent gasp, and the sheets covering her breasts pulled down enough to expose the nipples to the night air.

“I’d say she is doing what you think you’re doing,” Stall muttered.

Kate Beckinsale was masturbating, and they were catching it all on tape.

They watched silently for a long moment, mesmerized by the sight of Kate’s amble breasts shaking as she continued to finger herself. They still couldn’t see what exactly she was doing with her hand, but judging from her facial reactions, it was quite pleasant.

“We’ve got our tape,” Stall said, smiling.

Kate’s knees came up, pulling the sheets further down her body, exposing her bare stomach, but not her snatch, to the watchful cameras. She seemed to be moving about more now, her other hand grasping her breast and kneading it.

The two men watched the screen as the actress continued to masturbate, her face contorting in pleasure again and again. Suddenly, Lambert reached for the controls, and switched the views, bringing up a shot that appeared to be coming from the headboard of the bed. Now Kate’s body was upside down on the screen, but they could get a shot running under the sheets now held up by her legs, and could see her hand right over her crotch.

“Nice shot,” Stall said. “Can we zoom from here?”

“Not yet,” Lambert said sourly. “The lenses aren’t designed for that. Hopefully before long I can give you that, but not right now.”

Suddenly, Kate stopped touching herself and rolled off the bed.

“Side view!” Stall snapped. Lambert switched back to their original view, across the bed, and managed to catch a shot of the lovely Miss Beckinsale’s naked ass as she quickly walked out of view.

“Get her back!” Stall demanded.

Lambert hit another control, and suddenly, Kate’s naked body from head to waist came into view. Her ample breasts were still moving as the young actress was out of breath. A slight sheen of sweat had covered her face and chest, adding a little glow to her skin.

“This camera’s hidden in their mirror,” Lambert whispered as they saw Kate looking through her underwear drawer. Was the show over? Had Kate gotten off without either man really noticing?

And then they saw what she was pulling out of the drawer.

A nice, pink, six-inch dildo.

“Oh. My. God.” Lambert said as Kate walked back out of view.

“Get her back!” Stall said, swatting Lambert upside the head. The techie switched the view back to the over-the-bed shot, just in time to see Kate’s completely naked body laying down atop the sheets.

“This is going to be great!” Lambert said.

Kate grabbed some KY jelly out of her drawer and quickly spread some of the lube over the entire length of the dildo. Then, she quickly pulled her legs wide, knees back towards her chest, exposing her pussy to the camera.

“Watch this,” Lambert said, switching the camera view just in time to be level with Kate’s crotch as the pink plastic masturbation aide slid slowly in.

“Beautiful,” Stall said, feeling both aroused and confident that this video alone would win him control of the Timekeeper’s Club.

Kate slowly started to pull the dildo out, her legs shaking slightly as she did so. She brought the pink plastic penis almost all the way out before driving it back in, a little faster than the time before. Her whole crotch area seemed to glisten in what little light there was in the room as KY mixed with Kate’s own juices to lubricate the entire area.

Kate’s pace increased, as she pulled the dildo in and out faster and faster. Lambert switched back to the above-the-bed shot, and they could see Kate’s mouth hanging open, her other hand back on her tit, massaging the swollen nipple as she continued to violate herself with the dildo.

Stroke after stroke filled Kate’s pussy, and it was evident from her face that she was enjoying herself quite a bit. The dildo’s pace had increased to that of a blur, moving so fast it was hard to follow. Stall and Lambert watched long and hard as the young actress brought herself closer and closer to orgasm.

And then, it hit. Kate’s body went rigid, her back arching almost impossibly far, and her hand fell from her breast to clutch at the sheets. Even her toes seemed to tangle themselves up in the loose sheets as wave after wave of pleasure filled Kate Beckinsale and left very clearly satisfied.

Slowly, the young actress pulled the pink dildo out of herself, got up, and walked into the bathroom to clean up.

“That was the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen,” Lambert said, awed. He was unable to pull his eyes away from the screen, despite the fact that Kate had left the area visible at all to any of the cameras.

“Fantastic work, Lambert,” Stall said, getting up despite the blazing erection he had.

“R-right,” Lambert muttered.

“How long will it take you to edit this all together?”

“Huh?” Lambert said.

“The editing, Lambert!” Stall demanded. “The editing! How long to edit it all?”

“Oh, oh!” Lambert said, coming alive. He shoved his chair across the room, riding the wheels over to another station, where he pulled up a series of small screens, each one showing the Beckinsale bedroom from a different angle.

“Uh, let’s see, that took her what, fifteen minutes? I can edit it all together, maybe increase it by showing the same thing from two or three different cameras, and get it all to you on a burned DVD in about two days.”

“Make it one, and there’ll be a bonus in it for you,” Stall said, heading back out to his car.

“I’m, uh, not sure I can-”

“Then you don’t get the bonus, Lambert, and I find someone else to do the editing.”

“Honestly, that’s not such a bad idea. It’d give me more time to improve the cameras, and work on the chemicals some more-”

“Fine,” Stall said. “I’ll look in to getting someone else for the editing, but for right now, you’re it. Get me that DVD in 24 hours, and I’ll pay you three times your usual daily fee.”

“You’ll have it in 23 hours,” Lambert said, already sliding back over to the editing station.

“I thought so,” Stall smiled, leaving The Pit and heading back to his car.

* * *

January 2nd, 2005

The Timekeeper’s Club

London, England

The DVD player went silent, and the lights came back on to complete and utter silence.

Richard Stall couldn’t help but smile. Every other member of the Timekeeper’s Club was left speechless, and really, that was what he wanted.

“Can we assume, then,” Stall said, standing up, “that we’ll be doing a lot more video work in the near future?”

“Kate Beckinsale,” Dr. Al-Qahtari said, shaking his head. “Masturbating on camera. Incredible. Absolutely incredible.”

“Imagine others,” Stall said, standing up and motioning towards the screen. “More and more famous women, engaging in sex acts like they normally do, unknowingly doing it for my cameras – OUR cameras.”

William Neal openly scoffed. “Please, Richard, you don’t honestly believe you’ll get this lucky again. This was a one time event, and we all know it.”

“No!” Stall said, emphatically. “I can bring you more. Anyone you want. Given enough time, I could bring you any woman you asked for, engaging in one sex act or another.”

“Anyone?” One of the other members asked.

“Anyone,” Stall said, “Just name it.”

“Britney Spears!” Some one called out.


“The Queen Mum!”

That last one got a good round of cheers, one that Stall joined in on. He waited until they died down before he answered.

“I could get them all except perhaps the Queen Mum.”

“But how much time would you need?” Neal asked, pointedly. “We pride ourselves on our timeliness here, Stall. If you truly can get all these women on camera, how long would it take? A day? A week? A month? Ten years?”

“Obviously, I’d need more than a day. Inside of England here, probably no more than two weeks, a month at most as long as said celeb is here in England. Overseas, obviously more time.”

“But you do believe you can get anyone?” Dr. Al-Qahtari asked.

“I do.”

“But can you get enough of them?” Neal asked. “If it takes you a month or longer to grab shots of Britney Spears fucking her husband, what are the rest of us to do in the mean time? We can’t just sit around, waiting for you.”

“How many would you suggest I deliver in a set amount of time, William?” Stall asked, a touch of bitterness in his voice.

Neal seemed to think about that for a long second, rolling around ideas in his head.

“We have, what, anywhere from fifty to eighty meetings a year, depending on our activities. Could you provide us with at least one celeb per meeting?”

Stall thought about that. It would be impossible to bug 80 different celebs’ houses in a year – the logistics alone would be a nightmare. But, armed with the camera around his neck and Lambert’s hormonal chemicals, Stall might just be able to physically sleep with quite a few celebs personally. It wouldn’t be impossible at all.

“I think I could pull that off, given enough support.”

“What kind of support?” Dr. Al-Qahtari asked.

“Financial support, obviously. Getting all of this will take me away from my business, and cost quite a bit.”

“You know the rules, Stall,” Neal said. “No member of the Timekeeper’s Club is allowed to loan money to another.”

“But bets are legal,” Dr. Al-Qahtari pointed out. “What if we all made a wager with Richard, based upon him meeting the conditions upon which we’ve set. How much money would you stand to loose this year if you were to concentrate on this?”

Stall did some quick calculations in his head. “Depending on the market, I could loose up to 25 Million Pounds.”

“Then we’ll say this,” Dr. Al-Qahtari said. “The stakes of the bet are that if Mr. Stall brings us eighty different celebrities on tape by the end of the year for 2005, every member of the club will award him a Million pounds, with Mr. Neal, as head of the Club for this year, giving him an extra Million to bring the total up to Twenty-Five Million total.”

Neal grunted at that. “We should flesh out the requirements more! It can’t just be we give him money for bringing us eighty shots of Miss Beckinsale getting off on herself.”

“Agreed,” Dr. Al-Qahtari said. “Though we will count miss Beckinsale as one of your eighty, Richard, seeing as how this is already our second meeting of the year.”

“How gracious,” Stall said.

“We need women from all over the world,” Neal went on. “Every continent.”

“Every continent,” Stall agreed, though reluctantly.

“There should be both natives of every continent, as well as actual action on every continent,” Neal added.

“Fine, fine,” Stall said, waving it off like it was nothing. In truth, that would require a lot more timing and effort.

“And what do we get if he fails?” Neal asked next.

“I won’t fail,” Stall said.

Dr. Al-Qahtari frowned. “Well, tradition says that Mr. Stall would have to pay us back twice what we bet. That would be 50 Million total, Richard. Can you cover that.”

Stall tried to hide the lump in his throat. What that didn’t take into account was the extra 25 Million Stall would probably loose through his business efforts. This bet wouldn’t bankrupt him should he lose, but he’d be years away from getting back to where he was now. And that was assuming no one noticed that he’d suddenly moved 50 million out of his accounts for no apparent good reason.

“I can cover that,” Stall said, hoping his forehead wasn’t sweating.

“Then it’s settled,” Dr. Al-Qahtari said. “Richard, you 364 days to bring us 79 more celebrities having sex on tape. Should you accomplish your goal, you will be rewarded not only the 25 Million we promised you, but also the Staff-Holder position for 2006. Should you fail, you are required to pay us double what you would have won, per Timekeeper’s Tradition. Is this acceptable to you?”

“It is,” Stall said, already trying to plot where he was going to get eighty celebrities from.

“Then you’d best get moving on your quest to go around the world in eighty babes.”

Stall was already heading out the door.

To Be Continued…

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